


Price of Trust

by ancestrallizard



Series: Risk Assessment [3]
Category: Shin Megami Tensei, Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 11:46:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14831687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancestrallizard/pseuds/ancestrallizard
Summary: Kazuya tries to be helpful.





	Price of Trust

**Author's Note:**

> until the smt fandom forcibly restrains me I'm going to keep writing this
> 
> very very loosely based on a story from college

Hitoshura’s hair is too long. 

It had grown out unchecked, long enough to touch his ears and the back of his neck. He couldn’t ignore the sensation of hair on his skin no matter what he tried. It wasn’t life threatening, not really, but it still _felt_ like it was. He might not have even noticed it, but it was laying down flat against his skin in the way he hated most. 

He would have just hacked it off himself and been done with it, but still-mending breaks in both arms and his left hand from the battles they’d fought early that day hindered too much motion. Healing magic worked wonders, but it couldn’t always work immediately. 

It marred what should have been a rare peaceful moment for the both of them. It was late, one lamp barely illuminating Kazuya’s sparse room with a thin sheen of orange light. Kazuya worked on something at his desk while Hitoshura tried to rest on the bed behind him. 

(He’d told Kazuya he was all right after the battle, and he was. He just wanted to indulge in rest in a place he could let his guard down).

After the ninth or tenth time fiddling with his hair and growling about it, Kazuya looked up form whatever he was working on. “I’ve got scissors around here somewhere. Do you want me to cut it?” 

He weighs the option. If he wanted to cut it himself, he’d have to wait another day at least for his limbs to mend themselves. He wouldn’t trust most humans or demons so close to his neck with a weapon, even one that couldn’t easily pierce his skin, but Kazuya had proven himself trustworthy time and time again. 

He shrugs. 

Kazuya smiles, and that nullifies any other resistance Hitoshura might have had for the idea. 

He clears off his desk, laying down a towel and digging out a pair of large, chipped scissors from a drawer. 

“What should I do with it?” Kazuya asks once Hitoshura is seated in the chair. 

“Doesn’t matter,” the half-demon answers, “I just need it short.”

His boyfriend gets to work. The silence returns, only interrupted by the clips of the scissors. The knowledge that the excess hair would be gone soon, as well as having Kazuya’s attention, even if for a menial chore, settled some of the restlessness plaguing Hitoshura. He even forgets about his hand and arms for the time being, letting his mind drift. 

“This is actually going pretty well.” Kazuya says after awhile. 

The near calm recedes somewhat. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“It’s just that I’ve never actually done this before,” Kazuya says, scissors never pausing. “But I think it’s all right so far.” 

Now that he was actually paying attention, the pile of hair on the towel was a lot bigger than Hitoshura would have expected it to be. 

After a few more cuts, Kazuya put the scissors down. “Done.” 

His previous confidence was completely absent now, for reasons that became very apparent when he held up a small scratched up mirror for the half-demon.

On the one hand, Hitoshura’s hair no longer touched his ears and neck, and that was an unarguable relief. On the other, he looks…

“Kazuya?”

“Yeah?”

“Never cut anyone’s hair again.”

“Yeah.” 

 -----

Raidou doesn’t ask why Hitoshura is wearing a probably-stolen jacket with the hood pulled up the next time he sees him. He doesn’t ask why he never once sees the half-demon without it for the next week, nor does he ask about the stormy expression that occasionally crosses his face in that time. 

He is curious, undeniably so. But being a summoner had given him a sixth sense in regard to danger. He’d learned when to leave well enough alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely Tragic 
> 
> I post other nonsense on my tumblr: ancestrallizard.tumblr.com


End file.
